


Firelight

by mavy1



Series: Water and Light [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, If I'm being honest this is a little angsty, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, POV Second Person, POV Sokka, Pre-Relationship, ok it's mostly mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mavy1/pseuds/mavy1
Summary: Far from home, facing down the barrel of destiny, or fate, or whatever it is someone else might believe in, you've never felt quite so afraid - or so lonely.But tonight when the nightmares wake you, as they always do, you realize something you haven't before - you're not alone.And slowly but surely, you learn to make your home in him anew.





	1. Firelight

You wake in a cold sweat, dazed and panicked, but it takes you only a moment to get your bearings. Catching your breath, that takes a little longer. It’s so heavy in the air above you that you can imagine, you almost wish, that you could see it, as you would if you were back home, crawling from your warm bed out into the morning air, before the winter sun had even begun to rise low in the sky.

Home.

You roll over onto your side, fixing your eyes on your sister. Katara, luckily, is still fast asleep, wrapped tightly in her sleeping bag, one arm reaching out only slightly, resting on the pillow of her long hair. Reaching out for you. Her face seams peaceful now, in the near darkness. But you still worry. You always do, just a little. After all, there’s no way to tell if she could be having dreams like yours.

You roll onto your back again and let a soft sigh escape into the cool night around you. After a moment, you notice the clouds. They hang low and ominous in the sky, pressing down on you and your friends. It’s too bad, really. You would have liked to see the moon tonight. You always would.

It’s only then that you notice the light. The softly flickering shadows are what catches your attention. You sit up now, since sleep feels a long way away anyways, searching for it’s source. You catch a glimpse of a dark figure sitting in the distance, cupping a small flame in an outstretched hand. As your eyes adjust to the light, you realize it’s looking back. Your eyes lock for a moment before you look away. Or at least, you think they do. It’s hard to tell in the low light. But you know he’s already heard you at the very least. For the first time, you wonder if he feels as lonely as you do.

Stiff and slow, being careful not to disturb the others, you rise from your bed and make your way over to him. He watches as you approach, eyes narrowed and face set, but he says nothing. As you draw closer he turns away, and you notice he’s dangling his legs over the edge of the cliff face, feet bare and pant legs rolled up, letting the wind cool his skin until his legs are covered in goose flesh. You decide to do the same, sitting just close enough to feel a little of the fire’s offered warmth. The two of you stay that way for what feels like hours, you gazing at the little flame out of the corner of your eye, him staring resolutely ahead, letting the chill of the night and the heat of the flame mingle on your skin.

“Couldn’t sleep?” to your great surprise it’s Zuko who breaks the silence. Rather than answering, you just shoot him a glare. You both know he’s heard your nightmare, seen you thrashing in your sleep. You turn away so he can’t see your face.

“You neither?” there’s a short pause, followed by a faint hum of acknowledgement from Zuko. Then it occurs to you that maybe you’re not alone. Maybe Zuko has nightmares too, though not quite like yours surely. And then it’s more than just an idea. You’re certain he does. Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t offer you much comfort. 

“Do you – do you want to talk about it?” Of all the words you thought you might hear from the former fire nation prince, these are about the furthest from your mind. Especially when they’re being spoken so softly and sincerely.

There’s a part of you, a scared and wounded part, that still flinches at the sight of Zuko’s wild eyes, and the rough scar that tries desperately to hide their splendor. It cowers in fear at the memory of all the pain you’ve been through, at all the pain he’s caused, and right now it wants nothing more than to turn tail and flee at the thought of sharing your feelings with him. But when you look at him now, his face lit only by the soft light of the flame he holds carefully in his hand, it feels like you’re seeing him for the first time. His eyes unmarred by a cruel glare. Lips untainted by cruel words. He looks so much younger than you remember; he can’t be much older than you are. He’s a little afraid and a lot broken and he’s trying. Spirits is he trying. And maybe you should try too. 

So you do. You tell him about the nightmares. About the fire and the ashes and the deep, cold darkness that’s always there, always waiting, waiting to engulf you. To take away everyone that you’ve ever loved, even those that are already long gone, burning away your memories of them that are already fading anyways. And just when you think you’re done you find your words spilling over, rushing out, and you’re telling him all your fears and all your pain and all about the great weight that’s always pressing in around you, down upon you, threatening to crush you and swallow you and forget you and it’s frantic and it’s terrifying and it’s so so good.

And all the while he simply listens, fully and truly. And when you’ve finally worn yourself out you fall back on your elbows, gasping for the breath you’ve forgotten to take. You want to look away, to feel less vulnerable in the sudden silence, but you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes way from his face, and the way the firelight dances softly upon his cheeks. 

After a moment he makes a movement as if to maybe take your hand, but thinks better of it. “Sokka.” He fixes you with his gaze, still intense, but in a very different way now than it used to be. “I’m sorry. For everything.” Is all he says. But his eyes say something his words never would.

Trust me. 

And you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow ok it's literally been almost a decade since I've written anything but everyone in the zukka fandom seems super chill and nice, so I decided to post this just in case someone actually felt like reading some mediocre angst.  
> Anyways I really love the way Sokka and Zuko interact in the Boiling Rock episodes, especially how they seem to open up to each other pretty easily, and I wish we could have seen more of how they got to trusting each other like that. So I decided to write some I guess.


	2. Starshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness is oppressive, but you can't decide if the dark of the night or of your thoughts is worse. Thinking about what fate holds for you at the first light of dawn makes you a little sick to your stomach. And you're not the only one.

The darkness is thick and heavy and feels all-consuming as it pours through your veins. It has long since settled deep in your chest.

 

Then again, maybe it’s not so much that the darkness is so pervasive. Maybe it’s that the howling of the wind in your ears, the taste of the wind-blown grit that sticks to your lips and coats your throat, and the persistent dampness that threatens to gather into a storm but can never seem to produce so much as a single cloud, simply pushes out everything else except the beating of your own heart. That must be it.

 

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when whatever it is, maybe the darkness, maybe the damp, maybe just the weight of the blanket on such a hot summer night, sends you reeling from your tent. You find yourself standing bare-footed in the dirt outside, drawing sharp breaths, hunched over with your hands grasping your knees, that firm hold the only thing keeping you from feeling as though you’ll simply float away, disappear.

 

Slowly your mind begins to return home, and your breathing begins to even out, and eventually you’re able to straighten, though your knees are still trembling a little. You take a single deep, shaky breath and turn your eyes skyward. Maybe it’s just you, but the stars don’t seem as bright as they should. Their dim light offers you little comfort. You sigh and run your hands through your hair. It’s damp with sweat and now that you’re not so frantic it makes you feel cold when the night air whispers against your skin.

 

The rush of the wind still fills your head, and you’re overtaken by a sudden urge to leave behind everyone and everything and just let it carry away the dark and desolate thoughts that threaten to drown you, and maybe you with it. You let the sound draw you into the open, making your way carefully through the camp until the dirt beneath your feet is replaced by rough grass tall as your hip that tickles your fingertips and your arms as you wade through it.

 

With the darkness and the height of the grass you don’t notice the other figure until you’re almost on top of him. You stop dead in your tracks, for once not quite sure if he’s heard you or not, and not wanting to intrude. After a moment you decide to join him, hoping he might find even a little of the comfort at seeing you that you do at seeing him. He doesn’t look up as you approach, but when you sit down next to him he glances in your direction. The look he gives you is not unfriendly, so you decide to believe he’s glad to see you. You know that you’re glad to see him.

 

The grass is tall enough that when you sit there on the ground, leaning back on your hands with your legs splayed out in front of you, you can’t see much over it. Not that there would be much of a view anyways, not under the pale light of so few stars. You can barely even make out Zuko, though he’s sitting so close to you. Just the faint glimmer in his eyes. But really that’s all you ever need to see to know what he’s feeling. It’s like that between you.

 

“Hey.” You can’t think of a better way to break the silence, but it comes out gentle and warm, so maybe that’s alright.

 

“Hey. What are you doing out here?”

 

You could tell him. It would be so easy to admit to him the reasons that you can’t even seem to admit to yourself. And you would too, if it weren’t for the glint in his eyes that could so easily be mistaken for a trick of the light if you didn’t know better. But you do. And you know that right now, he needs you more than you need him.

 

“I was worried about you.” It’s not a lie, not really anyways. After everything that happened today, and now staring down everything you’ll be up against tomorrow, it’d be far more surprising if you weren’t. Zuko probably knows he’s not what brought you out here tonight, just as you are not what brought him here, but that’s not really the point, is it? You’re both here now. Maybe for the last time. “You want to talk?”

 

Zuko hums in response but says nothing. You move closer, pressing against him so that the two of you are touching from your shoulder down your arm to the tip of your little finger. You hope it offers him some comfort, or at least that you’re not overstepping your bounds. With anyone else you wouldn’t hesitate like this, but with Zuko it’s… different. He doesn’t pull away though, and after a few minutes he shifts slightly, leaning his head against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a time, listening to the rustling of the wind in the long grass, and you to the beating of your heart that’s just a little to loud in your chest.

 

When Zuko finally does speak, his voice is tight with some emotion that only months ago you would never have believed he could have. “I don’t know if I can do it Sokka. I don’t know if I’m ready to lead the fire nation.”

 

“You’re not.” The words leave your mouth before you’ve even had a chance to think about them.

 

At that, you can feel Zuko stiffen in the brief instant before he lifts his head and turns away from you. Shit. _Shit._ Shit, shit, shit. If only you would use your brain before you spoke.

 

“Oh, shit man, I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean that. Well, I sort of did, but… not like that. Look it’s just… Aahhh!” Your hands are working pretty hard at pulling out your hair as you slump backwards onto the ground. You let them fall on either side of your head, felling empty and defeated and cursing your big mouth.

 

“Look it’s not that I think you’ll make a bad firelord. That’s not it at all. It’s more like -  have you ever seen sea ice after the first few days of winter? It’s so pristine and inviting, but everyone warns you not to go out, because no matter how safe it may look, it’s not. It’s still thin and fragile, and it can’t take that kind of pressure, you know?” You see Zuko’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t. So, you have to make him.

 

“Well that’s you. You’re the ice, okay? And I’m worried about you. Because you’ve come so far and changed so much, and I admire you for that, but you’re not ready to carry the weight of an entire nation on your shoulders. You shouldn’t have too.” You add that last part a little darkly. You like Iroh, in general, and from what you can tell he’s done a lot for Zuko, but you can’t help but think he’s asking too much.

 

“But I do.” It’s all Zuko says as he lays down beside you and the two of you lapse into silence for a while. It’s several minutes before he speaks again.

 

“Hey, Sokka? What do you do? When you find yourself out on ice that’s still too thin I mean. How do you get out?”

 

“Well… you have to spread yourself out. That way, you decrease the pressure on any one spot.”

 

“Oh.” If Zuko had been looking for an answer to his problem, he obviously hadn’t found it there. But you had. You roll over so that you’re facing him, a little surprised he’s so close to you that you’re practically whispering right into his ear now.

 

“Hey. That’s not a bad idea.”

 

“What?”

 

“Spreading out the weight.”

 

“Sokka. _What_ are you talking about?”

 

“What if – what if you weren’t alone? What if you had someone you knew you could trust, someone to help you, at least at the beginning?”

 

“That’s a nice idea Sokka, but magical problem solvers don’t come around all that often.”

 

“Zuko…” screw it, you think as you reach out and place your hand on his shoulder “you have us.”

 

“Yeah.” He turns his head towards you, but he still won’t meet your eyes “but Aang’s the avatar. He’s got bigger things to worry about. And Katara and Toph are just kids. I couldn’t ask them to…” His voice trails off after that, and he closes his eyes, seeming to shroud your world in darkness.

 

“And what about me? Am I not good enough for the great firelord Zuko?” Your words are somewhere between teasing and earnest.

 

“Sokka” Zuko’s voice seems to be caught in his throat. _Of coarse you are._ He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t have to. You hear it all the same.

 

“Would you? Would you really help me?”

 

There’s a kind of tension there, something that you can’t quite name that lies just beneath the surface of both your words whenever you talk like this with Zuko. It reminds you of the dampness that hangs in the air now, hinting of a storm that might not be too far off, or that might never arrive. It’s not uncomfortable – by now you’re used to it, so you brush it off. All that matters right now is that your friend is in front of you, scared and hurting, and he’s reaching out for you.

 

“Of course I would.” _I’d do anything for you. If you would only ask._ You’re not too sure if you said that last part out loud. You’re not sure if you wish you had.

 

You can see a small, hopeful smile touch Zuko’s lips. The stars must have gotten brighter, for you to make that out. Or maybe the two of you are just close enough now for you to see him regardless.

 

“Promise?”

 

The darkness that was nearly drowning you before is trickling back in now, forcing you to spare a brief thought for everything that’s at stake tomorrow. You know it’s dangerous to make promises you might not be able to keep, that the world might not allow you to keep. But you desperately want to.

 

And you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well at least one whole human being kind of implied that the enjoyed the first chapter of this, and since I have a few more ideas about these two I've decided to share them.
> 
> Ooohhhhh boy do I have a lot of feelings about firelord Zuko. Honestly, the whole Gaang basically lost their childhoods to the war, but I definitely think Aang and Zuko had it the worst, and I never appreciated the idea that Zuko had to go through it all alone. So enter Sokka.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this latest installment in a series with way more angst than I hoped it would have. Feel free to leave me a comment with what you thought, or if you think I should do some more, or hit me up on my tumblr at either mavy1 or backcountry-deltora.
> 
> Anyways, peace I'm out. Thanks for reading :)


	3. Moonshadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always lonely this time of night. But you're only lonely because he's not around.

It’s getting late. You should sleep. You really should. You know that much. But the feeling of the knotted wood of that old tree pressing into your back, the trembling of the leaves above your head, the faint shadow they cast under the pale light of the watchful moon, they make you feel less lonely, somehow.

 

You’re not alone for long. The quiet sound of light footfalls is what alerts you to his presence. You know who it is without looking, so you don’t bother to open your eyes as he approaches. He must want you to know he’s there, or you wouldn’t hear him at all. As it is the only greeting you receive is a quite grunt as he sits down beside you, and the warm weight of his head on your lap moments later.

 

“Thanks. You woke me up.” You say, feigning annoyance.

 

“You weren’t asleep.” You don’t ask how he knows, just as he doesn’t ask what you’re doing out alone so late at night. He’s found you like this in his mother’s garden enough times to know.

 

At the sound of his voice you finally open your eyes. Looking down you meet his, warm and golden, if a little tired. You smile at each other for a moment, and you note a kind of sadness that isn’t usually there. You raise your hand from your side, and run your fingers gently through his hair. He closes his eyes at your touch, letting out a soft sigh, and your heart jumps just a little. But it really shouldn’t.

 

You’ve known how you feel about Zuko for some time now. Maybe if you had a little more self-control, you’re breath wouldn’t catch in your throat every time he gave you a particularly fond look, your heart wouldn’t hammer so hard in your chest whenever he laughed, you’re hand wouldn’t tremble so much in the moments before you touched him. But you don’t. So they do. You have just enough control and sense not to tell him. It doesn’t really matter what he’d say, how he’d feel. You can’t be together. So you subsist on dreams and deep breaths and quiet moments between the two of you like this one, that you cherish and soak up greedily.

 

You work you fingers through his hair, slowly and repeatedly, until you reach his scar. You trace just above it, firm and gentle all at once, and hear a low groan barley escape his lips. Zuko likes to be touched, in general. A firm handshake, a touch on the shoulder, a friendly embrace - since you’d known him he’d warmed to them. And thinking about how little he’d received for most of his life only made you want to hold him tighter, bring him closer. But no one ever touched his scar. Not even you – except once.

 

It feels like a lifetime ago, back before you really knew each other, and you can still hardly believe you had the courage to do it. Before the palace, before the comet, before you knew. Aang had asked about it first, though in truth you were just as curious, and he had told you. But then you were alone, as you often were, and you had asked if you could touch it. You were incredibly surprised when he had actually agreed.

 

The skin was softer than it looked, almost delicate. But that was always the way with Zuko. Everyone assumed he was all sharp edges, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He, like his scar, was delicate. And true, if you cracked through that soft shell there was no telling what might escape, so mostly you had just learned to be gentle, and to help the world be gentle with him.

 

You had spent a long time running your fingers along the edges, and the long jagged lines that marked were the skin had cracked and broken as it healed, and into the deep red around his eye, showing where the worst damage had been done. Every moment you expected him to change his mind, to snatch your hand away, to curse and berate you for what you had done, but he never did. He just sat cross-legged in front of you, breathing deeply, trembling slightly, and staring deep into your eyes as you stared deep into his soul, letting you take as long as you wanted.

 

“Can you feel this?” It had taken far too long for the thought to occur to you, so focused had you been.

 

When he answered, it had been slow, and thoughtful. “Not exactly.”

 

To your great surprise he had raised his own hand to your face, resting his fingers lightly on your cheek, just as you had on his. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone gently as he spoke. “This? No. not even a little. But this?” He leaned in closer to you, so that your knees brushed together and you could see dark fecks in his golden eyes, and pressed his thumb harder into your cheek just below your eye. It hadn’t exactly hurt, but the pressure hadn’t been comfortable either. Then again, that might have been because you had ended up less than a breath apart, each with your hand resting softly on the other’s cheek. It was hard to tell in retrospect.

 

“It’s not ugly you know. The scar I mean. You still look…” You trailed off at the end, not really ready to finish that thought the way you wanted to. Zuko had simply hummed in response, and you weren’t sure if he agreed or not.

 

“People still stare. Or worse, they won’t look at me at all.”

 

“But not me.” Well maybe you did stare sometimes. But never when he was looking. And never at the scar – at least not anymore. That was never what you wanted to look at most.

 

“No, not you.” It was said with a smile and something almost like a chuckle, and along with the words Zuko had reached up and held your arm, the one whose hand was still touching his cheek, and rubbed his thumb along the inside of your wrist. The moment was tender and fragile, and almost to much, and he had let go quickly.

 

It had been then that you had let your hand fall away, leaning back and breathing easier again. You shared a look, and with it, an understanding that day, one that you still couldn’t quite put words to, even though you held on to it so tightly still.

 

“Sokka” Zuko’s voice just manages to pull you out of your own thoughts. “I’ve been thinking.”

 

“Uh oh. That’s _never_ good.”  You’ve still got your fingers tangled in his hair, but his face is turned away from you now, and it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.

 

“I’m _serious_ Sokka. This is important.”

 

“Alright, alright. I get it.” He sighs, and you move your hand to rest it on his shoulder. “Hey. You can tell me.”

 

“It’s just… look, things have been going pretty well lately. The other nations are finally starting to trust us, the people are starting to accept me as their leader, there hasn’t been a single uprising in months…”

 

“And?” The words are true – things are indeed going well lately, but the tone with which Zuko delivers them suggests there’s a catch.

 

“Sokka, before you came here you told me that I should have someone at first, to help me when I would need it the most. But it’s been a while and, well, I think I can probably handle things on my own from here. I think maybe it’s time you thought about leaving.”

 

“What?” You’re so caught off-guard by his words It takes you a minute to process them.

 

“Come on Sokka, you hate it here.” It’s said with intent, but Zuko’s argument falls of deaf ears.

 

“I do not!” You’re starting to get angry. Does Zuko really know so little about how you feel that _this_ is what he thinks?

 

“Yes, you do! You complain about the heat constantly, and about how frustrating the council meetings are, and –“

 

“Yeah, And when I’m at the south pole I complain about the cold, and on my days off I complain about how bored I am, it’s just what I do, so I don’t really see your point!”

 

“ _Sokka - ”_

 

“No, I don’t believe this!” In your anger you forget Zuko’s head is still resting in your lap, and you jump to your feet without giving it a thought “are you actually kicking me out?”

 

“I thought you _wanted_ to leave” Zuko’s voice comes to you from where he landed on the ground, only a little indignant.

 

“ _What_ in the name of all the spirits _ever_ gave you that idea?” You’re practically yelling now, pulling at your own hair and gesturing wildly, accusingly.

 

“You miss your tribe. And your family.” Unlike you Zuko has yet to raise his voice. If anything he seems to be folding in on himself more and more with each passing moment.

 

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you? _You’re_ my family too Zuko. Do you really think I would just leave you?” All the things you never said to him are welling up inside you. They’re on the tip of you’re tongue, but of all the times you’ve wanted to, right now seems like the worst possible time to confess something like that to him.

 

“I can’t force you to stay.” He says this quietly, his voice choked and his face betraying something broken inside.

 

“But you _will_ force me to _leave? Why?”_ You’re nearly on the verge of tears now, hardly believing what you’re hearing, not after everything you’d been through together.

 

“I thought it’s what you wanted.” He repeats those words earnestly, and this time you understand. What he means to say isn’t that he thinks you want to leave, it’s that he’s afraid you want to.

 

Your anger and hurt fade away almost instantly, because suddenly you’re looking into the eyes of a boy who’s afraid that someone he cares about might not be there when he wakes up the next morning. A boy who cares too much about you to stop you from leaving him.

 

With a sigh, you sit in front of him, taking one of his hands in your own and placing the other on his shoulder. Slowly you bring him closer until your forehead touches his.

 

“Zuko. Please, _please,_ believe me when I tell you that I’m not here out of some misplaced sense of duty to you. I know the promise I made, and I know that I’ve more than kept it by now. I’m here because I _want_ to be here. I _want_ to help rebuild the fire nation. _I want to be with you._ I do miss my family but without you… I don’t know what I’d do. Please don’t make me leave you. This is my home.”

 

You look up and meet his eyes. They’re so bright and hopeful and brimming with barely contained tears, and you know that if you stay here you’re done for. But to leave would be so much worse, you can’t even bear the thought of it. So for now you’ll take the pain as it comes.

 

“Do you mean that?”

 

And you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys just want to take care of each other but they're both so dumb!!?!
> 
> I definitely listened to WAY too much Josh Ritter before/while writing this chapter, so you can blame this overly emotional drivel on that. Still though, I don't think it turned out too badly. I'm definitely not as good at writing the dialogue as the other stuff, but we learn by doing I guess. I really like the first half more though (this is way longer than I expected it to be, since it's almost two entirely different chapters).
> 
> Anyways feel free to let me know what you think. I always love to hear from you. If you want to see some of my other stuff or just talk feel free to hit me up on tumblr as always (@mavy1 for personal or @backcountry-deltora for art/fics)


	4. Sunbeam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your worst nightmare realized - or so you think. But now the boy who holds your heart in his hands needs you more than ever before.

It’s hot today. It’s hot everyday in the fire nation in your opinion, but today the heat feels especially merciless. But no matter. It only means you need to work even harder at your training. You wish you didn’t need to, but you’d learned not to let your guard down. Your palm is slick with sweat, so you have to hold tighter. The air feels thick and heavy, so you have to breath harder. Your movements are sluggish and laboured, so your heart has to beat faster. Your mind wants to wander, so you have to clear it, focusing only on the weight of the sword in your hand.

 

So maybe, just maybe, when a palace guard comes rushing through the door, frantic and nervous, you catch only part of what he is saying. You hear only “Firelord” and “poison” and “…mortuary. He didn’t make it” before your mind shuts off.

 

Your heart had already been pounding. Your mind had already been reeling. So it shouldn’t have surprised you that you found your feet carrying you down the winding palace corridors before you even knew what you were doing. Or what you where going to do. Those last words just keep repeating themselves in your mind – _didn’t make it, didn’t make it, didn’t make it._

Death couldn’t be bargained with. You know that. But _spirits_ if it had taken Zuko you where willing to try. So, when you finally do reach the mortuary what you’re prepared for is a fight. Even if it is stupid and pointless – it’s all you can think to do.

 

You crash through the doors in front of you, sword still drawn, but what you find isn’t at all what you expected. You do see Zuko. And those beautiful golden eyes you thought you would never be so lucky as to see again. But they’re currently widened in fear, which might have something to do with the fact that you, his best friend, are running towards him brandishing a weapon, apparently prepared for the fight of your life. But you hardly care. You’re so relieved to see him safe that you can’t stop yourself. You careen into him at full speed, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the folds of his robe. In the back of your mind you register the sound of metal clattering against stone, but you can’t even begin to care. The only other sound is your choked sobbing, and its hollow echo in the nearly empty room. It’d be harder to stop the tears that are so urgently trying to escape than to simply accept them, and accept feeling everything you don’t want to feel. So, you let them come. All you can do for a time is clutch desperately at the back of Zuko’s robe, and press your face against his shoulder, and feel the deep aching in your chest that you think you might never be able to escape.

 

Zuko, for his part, simply holds you. He asks no questions, offers not empty comforts. Just holds you closely and tightly. Because he knows that’s what you need.

 

“Spirits, Zuko, I thought – when I saw the guard, and he said – _fuck_ I _didn’t_ think, I was so worried about you I just - ”  Your thoughts are halted, and your throat is tight, your voice coming out strained and just a bit too high. Whatever you want to say can’t get out, and you keep your face hidden against his chest to avoid his looking into his eyes.

 

When you’re finally able to look up you find yourself being fixed with a gaze altogether too soft and kind for someone so forlorn.

 

“No Sokka it’s okay, I’m…” He might have been thinking of telling you that he was fine, but he didn’t even bother trying to lie. You could always read him like an open book anyways.

 

This time it’s Zuko who won’t meet your gaze. “What’s happened?” The slumped shoulders, the hanging head, it’s more than enough for you to know the pain he’s feeling. You lift your hand to his face, brushing away a few loose strands of hair before resting it lightly of his cheek, turning his head gently so he’s looking at you again.

 

“My father.” Zuko sighs, stepping back and releasing you from his arms, along with the tender moment you had just shared. It had been brief, but, like it always did, it had felt safe somehow. Now you were again forced to experience the fear you had just been so overtaken by.

 

Zuko steps aside, and it takes you a moment to fully process what it is you’re seeing. At the very end of the long, stark-white room is a single lonely table, on which a body had been lain. Though it had been mostly covered by a crisp, white sheet you can still make out the figure’s face – though you almost don’t recognize it with out its usual sneer. Step by step, you start moving towards it, almost involuntarily.  Zuko doesn’t follow you.

 

“Earth kingdom spies. They infiltrated the prison,” is the only explanation Zuko offers you before turning his back and you hear, almost in a whisper, “I guess they finally got what they wanted.”

 

“Is there anything I can do?” You have to tear yourself away to turn to him again, but he’s no longer paying much attention to you.

 

“No.” _Not yet._ “I just want to be alone.” _For now._ You can read between the lines, but desperately wish you could help him, even though he’s not ready to admit he needs it yet. You’ll just have to wait, and hope that when he is, he’ll let you be there for him.

 

Zuko turns to leave without another word, leaving you alone in the ghostly quiet room. You don’t feel alone though. Although you know he’s dead and really truly gone, it still feels like the disgraced former firelord is with you. Waiting. For what, you don’t know. But you can feel it all the same.

 

You can’t help but think back to the beginning. Just after Aang had defeated Ozai. The war might have been over, but the tension between nations was far from gone, and the earth king claimed his nation would never be safe so long as there was anyone capable and willing to restart the war with a legitimate claim to power. So, a solution had been proposed.

 

An execution. A very _public_ execution. A warning. A show of power. A _scare tactic._ But the only person who could authorize it was Zuko.

 

And he had considered it.

 

For days he had done little else. He attended no meetings, spoke with and saw no one. Until late one night he had finally knocked on your door. He was lost in the dark, and looking to you for the answer to the question that could shape the rest of your lives. “Do you think I should do it?”

 

But you hadn’t needed to think about it. Not anymore. Because while he had been contemplating his decision, so too had you been. And you knew the answer

 

“No.” Your answer wasn’t given out of compassion or mercy, at least not for Ozai’s sake, for you had none to offer him. But you knew it was the right decision all the same. “Your nation needs you to lead them by example Zuko. You’ve been at war for a hundred years, and they’ve forgotten how to be peaceful. How can you possibly do that if you’re first act as Firelord is one of violence? One who’s main purpose is to frighten your people into complacency. You’re not your father. You can’t lead them through fear. That’s kind of the point, actually.”

 

He had just stared at you for a long while after that. Eventually he had simply walked away without another word. It wasn’t until morning that you had found out he had actually listened to you. And he had kept listening to you from then on. Even after nearly five years, you’re still his closest advisor.

 

You could only hope he’d let you in again in time. You spared one last look at the face of the man who, even in death, was causing so much pain before pulling the sheet up over his face. If anyone had been watching, they might have mistaken it as a sign of respect. But it wasn’t. You just couldn’t fully shake the feeling that he would never truly be gone. But at least this way, he wouldn’t be watching.

 

\---

 

Three days. For three long days the palace was quiet. No visitors. No meetings. No movement. All you could do was wait.

 

After those three days you do receive a message, though not the one you’d been hoping for.

 

_Funeral tomorrow at sunrise. He’ll need you._

_Iroh_

Thinking of attending the funeral of the man you so despised made your stomach turn. But you couldn’t help but think Iroh was right. And you’d do anything for Zuko.

 

So, the following morning you rise before the sun, dress in your most formal attire, and head down the darkened hallways of the palace towards the firelord’s chambers. You knock on the door but, receiving no answer, decide to let yourself in. The room is dark, and it takes you a minute to make out the scene before you. You can just see Zuko laying with his back to you on his bed. He’s fully dressed, but you recognize the clothes as those he was wearing when you last saw him, four days ago. You doubt very much whether he’s moved at all since then.

 

Slowly you make your way over to him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you rest a hand gently on his shoulder. “Zuko. It’s time.”

 

At the sound of your voice he turns his head towards you, exposing his scar and reminding you of just how deep your hatred for the man you’re about to mourn runs. You think he’s going to protest, and you honestly wouldn’t blame him, but he doesn’t. He lets you help him to his feet. He lets you help him dress in layer upon layer of his most regal clothing. He sits quietly as you tidy his long hair, gathering it into a bun and finishing your handywork off by placing his crown into it. He utters not a single word of protest as you take his hand and lead him along the palace corridors just as the sun finally begins to appear above the horizon.

 

It’s certainly not the kind of funeral a firelord would expect. But it’s much better than a convicted war criminal could have hoped for. The only people in attendance are Zuko, Iroh, and the fire sages. And yourself of course. It’s not long, or public, and no one cries. Well, Iroh may have, but in truth you aren’t paying very close attention to him. You’re too concerned for the boy who, under almost any circumstances would be better described as a bit too dramatic rather than cold and emotionless. But today even you have trouble trying to figure out what he is feeling. So, you just hold tightly to his hand, hoping it offers at least a little comfort. He doesn’t pull away from you, so you know it at least isn’t making things worse.

 

At the end of the ceremony it’s Zuko who leaves first. He still hasn’t let go of your hand, so you allow yourself to be pulled along behind him without protest. It’s still dark in his room when you get there – you neglected to open the curtains this morning. When Zuko finally does let go of you it’s to do just that. He walks towards the window with purpose and tears back the curtains with quite a bit more force than necessary. But this doesn’t exactly have the desired affect. Instead, the curtains catch and snare, opening only slightly, allowing just a single beam of light to slip into the dim room. In that moment all that’s really accomplished is the release of everything you know Zuko’s been holding inside, for days at least, but more likely for years, and the shouting and tearing at the curtains that ensues is somewhat frightening, but in a way you’re relieved. You let it go on for only a minute before striding over and gently taking a hold of his wrists in both your hands.

 

He places his hands on your shoulders and turns to you, tears streaming out of half-closed eyes, nearly hysterical. You can tell there’s a lot he wants to say - needs to say, so you hold onto him and let him cry until he’s ready. When he does speak his words come out frantic and high pitched.

 

“Spirits Sokka, why? _Why_ do I feel this way? I should be angry. I _am_ angry. He was a terrible ruler and a horrible father, and I have ever right to hate him, don’t I? So why do I feel so sad? So empty? I just – I don’t -”

He lapses back into strained sobbing. There’s isn’t much you can say to that, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t really expect you to. So instead you wrap your arms around him, one hand working to free his hair from the tight bun and tangling up in the long strands, the other rubbing slow, rhythmic circles on his back. You know it’s best for him to let this out, and for a while you remain silent, just letting him cry.

 

“Easy. Easy. It’s going to be alright. I’m here Zuko. I’ve got you.” The only thing you can offer him now is your presence. You hope that it’s enough.

 

Slowly you guide him towards his bed, and he lays down, curling himself into a tight ball. You don’t like that much; it screams of loneliness, and you can’t bear the thought of Zuko being lonely when you’re so near. So you lay down on the bed beside him and take his hand for the second time today.

 

“Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Your eyes meet for a moment, and you can see the relief there, though they still shine with tears. Then he curls into your side, pressing his face into your shirt and resting a hand on your chest. You wrap your arm around him, running your fingers gently through his hair. The two of you stay like that, listening to each others’ heartbeats and matching breaths, and you trying not to think of anything at all lest you remember all the pain and heartbreak still being inflicted upon the boy you’re so wrapped up in. It just makes you angry, furious really, and that’s not what he needs now.  You stay tangled together until the last golden rays of sunlight slipping through the half-open window begin to fade, along with your conviction, and you begin to wonder if Zuko would rather be alone. You shift a little, uncertain, but Zuko grasps more tightly at the front of your shirt as you do so.

 

“Please. Stay. Just for tonight?” His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear the words spoken into your side. But you do. And you know you’d stay here if he needed – wanted, forever, or at least until the pale morning light begins to stream in from behind those accursed drapes.

 

And you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow ok. Don't ask me what possessed me to write this, because I have no clue. My emotions have been shit lately and I kind of needed to vent, but I really have not other excuse. I just think that Zuko confronting his father 1 time would have taken care of all the issues they had.
> 
> This got way longer than I expected, and I swear it was going to be the last chapter, but I can't leave off on such a depressing note, plus things felt kind of unfinished, so expect 1 last addition (one that's not quite so angsty), but first I'm going to write a companion piece to this from Zuko's POV, so stay tuned for that if it sounds interesting to you.
> 
> As always thanks for reading :) your comments and feedback are MUCH appreciated so feel free to leave one! If you want to see more fics + art find me on tumblr @backcountry-deltora or @mavy1 for my personal blog.
> 
> Anyways peace, I'm out :)


	5. Aurora

The world had been split in two – forever divided between ice and sky. How cold, endless, and empty they both seem to you, fading off into the distance where darkness blurs the line between heaven and earth. Occasionally the two will meet, when snow graces the sky with its delicate presence or wind howls lonesome across the open tundra. Though lately, they have been surprisingly cold to one another. It is for this reason that the only break of the perfect stillness offered under the cover of darkness is the soft crunching of snow beneath your feet and your laboured breaths as you clamber over drift after drift of snow.

 

You had risen early this morning. The stars had told you so. In perfect stillness you had lain in wait for hours – they had told you that too. Now they told you it was nearing midday as you made your way home with your prize with only their faint glow and the light of a single torch to guide you.

 

You were a fool. That’s what the other warriors in the village had told you. Going after a leopard seal on your own in complete darkness. But this particular seal had been wreaking havoc on the fishermen and their catch for weeks, and _something_ needed to be done. Besides, you had a plan. A rather good one at that. And you had been feeling somewhat useless as of late. If you couldn’t even do this for your tribe than what good were you? Considering it had worked rather splendidly, though they might be right to call you a fool, it certainly wasn’t for this.

 

You stumble again, falling to your knees on the hillside, heavy breath forming great clouds of frost in front of you illuminated by the soft winter light. You turn to look back the way you’ve come, resting for a moment. Your eyes follow the path you’ve made across the ice from the edge of darkness right to your feet before focusing in on the only thing in this bleak wasteland that is of any interest to you these days: the warm glow of the fire you hold in your own hand.

 

It had been a little over a year since you’d left the fire nation, but forgetting him in the depths of winter was proving to be a near impossible task, surrounded and dependent on fire as you were. Constantly forced to chose between oppressive darkness and crippling cold and the memories of the way firelight made his eyes shine warm as tea and honey.

 

For a moment, stupid as it would be, you are tempted to snuff out the torchlight. Then the moment passes, and you rise to your feet and carry on home.

 

It isn’t much farther to the village, but the journey is made difficult by the added weight of the seal whose body you drag behind you tangled up in your net, and by the time you reach the top of the final hill and look down at the village you’re tired and in a sour mood. Normally, the warmth offered by the light and laughter that float up to you would amend this, but today that is not the first thing that catches your attention. Rather, it is the hulking form of a distinctly regal fire nation vessel docked in your harbour that draws your gaze. The stark contrast of it’s steely outline against the backdrop of the soft navy sky would be startling enough, even if you had no idea of the implications of its presence.   

 

You slide somewhat ungracefully down the slope of the hill to the edge of the village, stumbling a little as you haul your catch into the village proper, and directly to the feet of the waiting warriors. You might have registered the astonishment this provoked, had you stopped for more than a second to do so. But you don’t.

 

“Where is my father?” You demand, a little more forcefully than might be strictly necessary.

 

“The docks” is the only answer they manage to sputter out before you’ve turned and left without so much as a thank you.

 

You weave your way quickly between the small homes and their people, rushing through the noticeably larger than usual crowd and back into the open air. As promised, your father is waiting at the end of the dock to great your honoured guests.

 

“Sokka! Good, you’re just in time.” He smiles and claps you on the shoulder, ignoring your heavy breathing and the sweat that gleams on your brow, as well as the glare you’re giving him.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” you demand, undeterred by his apparent obliviousness.

 

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, son.” Feigning innocence might have worked on you, had it not been for the slight quirk of his brow and poorly disguised sly grin.

 

“Don’t play dumb with me dad, you know exactly what I’m talking about!” Planting a finger in his chest, you gesture wildly at the ship that stands at the opposite end of the dock.

 

“Ah, yes of course. Well you know fire lord Zuko has never been to the solstice festival, and I thought, wouldn’t it be awfully nice if he were to join us?” Stroking his chin, he gazes off into the distance, apparently lost is thought, though you’re not convinced.

 

“Nice for _who_ exactly?” brow furrowed you narrow your gaze. Maybe if you stare daggers hard enough at him, one might just ricochet and hit you. Then at least you wouldn’t have to deal with this.

 

He sighs, finally dropping the act and meeting your eyes properly. “Don’t take this the wrong way Sokka, but you have been rather unhappy since you came back to us, and I thought – “

 

“What did you think? Did you even? Because I don’t – “

 

Whatever you were about to say is cut off as the unwelcome ship begins it’s disembarkment, and you push your father away, trying to maintain some semblance of calm and dignity, though you do keep your arms crossed rather indignantly over your chest.

 

Two familiar figures descend the ramp flanked by stoic guards in dark armour. Though the party is shrouded by haze and night, the first stout figure you instantly recognize as Iroh, and your gaze lingers on him only briefly before being inevitably drawn to the second, who you could never mistake for anyone else, no matter how many years or how great and terrible the darkness that separates you.

 

Clad in spectacular red robes embroidered with tasteful gold that shines resplendent in the reflected starlight he approaches, holding himself proud and tall in a manner so noble it feels completely foreign, and yet somehow could still never be suitable of anyone less magnificent – of anyone else.

 

For a moment you are rendered completely speechless, unable to form any coherent thought apart from the knowledge of just how dishevelled you look by comparison. You want to shrink back into the shadows and disappear, but find yourself inexplicably rooted to the spot.

 

Reaching you, he extends a hand and takes your father’s arm in a firm grasp – familiar, but still somewhat formal. “Chief Hakoda. We are truly honored to be here for such a special occasion. Thank you for allowing us this opportunity.”

 

“Fire lord Zuko.” Your father huffs a laugh and clasps his shoulder warmly. “Let’s dispense with the formalities, shall we? You are always welcome here.”

 

Then his attention shifts, and Zuko – dammit – Zuko is raking you over with eyes so golden and familiar and a look so tender it leaves your mouth dry and you feeling more shaken and vulnerable than you can ever remember, and something in the back of your mind screams _bow_ and you can’t help but obey, bending almost as low as you feel and thinking that if you fell to your knees right here and now to satisfy your sudden urge to kiss the hem of his robes that it wouldn’t be too far over the line of what was appropriate.

 

“Fire lord Zuko. What a privilege it is to be graced by your presence. We are truly honored.” You raise your head to meet his eyes, but find all the tenderness that had been though just moments ago lost, replaced by a deep hurt and sadness.

 

_Shit._ Of course. _Of course_ that would hurt. You were being colder to him than the cruelest polar wind, or at least it sure came off that way. You had so long to think about what you would do if you ever saw Zuko again. Never in any of your wildest dreams did you think he would be so genuinely _happy_ to see you. So of course, you had to go ahead and fuck it up right away. You didn’t think it was possible for you to make things even worse between you than they already were. Apparently, you were wrong.

 

“Right… well” he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, revealing a little of the Zuko you had first come to know those long years ago, and twisting the knife in the wound of your guilt. “Shall we?” The four of you start back toward the main village, but before you can say anything else Iroh grabs your arm and hauls you off, determined to share just about everything, apparently, that’s happened in the months you’ve been away. Everything, that is, except what really matters to you.

 

* * *

 

 

It feels like hours before you are finally able to escape Iroh’s endless chatter. You really should join your tribe in greeting your other guests. After all, it’s not every day people from so many different villages come together like this. It could be a whole year, or longer, until you see some of them again. But after everything that’s happened today, all you really want is to be alone.

 

Finding privacy in your village is difficult, especially with so many visitors, but you know there’s always one place you can go where no one else does. Since the end of the war, the watchtower along the village wall is not visited often. You are grateful for that for many reasons.

 

You can still hear the bustle bellow you, but it’s quieter here, muffled and indistinct in a way that’s kind of comforting. Leaning back against the wall, you let it wash over you. You’ve nearly drifted off when heavy footfalls on the icy steps outside bring the world back into focus. At first, you think, you hope, if you just ignore it, pretend you’re not here, whoever it is will shove off and you can go back to dozing peacefully. Until you hear a voice from outside, soft and earnest.

 

“Sokka? Come on, I know you’re in there. Can I please come in?”

 

You let your head fall back against the wall and groan quietly to yourself before answering with a loud hum, vague enough that Zuko can do with it what he likes. The heavy pelt covering the doorway is pulled back with only the slightest hesitation.

 

“Hey. Katara said I’d probably find you sulking up here.” He leans his shoulder against the wall, casual and a touch awkward, a stark contrast to his grandiose performance upon his arrival.

 

“I’m not sulking!” You snap, looking away quickly to hide the blush that’s beginning to bloom on your cheeks.

 

“And yet, I found you exactly where she said you like to. Interesting how that works.” Well. You can’t argue with that logic. Although you’d like to.

 

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice low and hesitant as he fidgets absently with a lose thread on his sleeve.

 

“Mff.” It’s not a clear answer, but it isn’t exactly a no either, so Zuko takes it as invitation, sliding down against the wall opposite you.

 

You sit together in charged silence that drags on for what seems like an eternity, made more uncomfortable by the way you can feel Zuko’s gaze boring into you, though you resolutely refuse to return it. There’s so much you want to say, but you’re absolutely certain that as soon as you open your big mouth, you’ll screw things up again. You think maybe it’s better not to.

 

“So… you’re really not going to say anything, huh?” It’s more of an observation than anything, accompanied by the requisite exasperated sigh you’re so familiar with. And it’s more than enough to break down the wall you’re trying to put up. It’s like a dam has been broken – you can’t hold back your words or even seem to chose them.

 

“What exactly would you like me to say? What? That I’m sorry?” Your reply is colder than you’d hoped, laced with sarcasm that isn’t genuine.

 

“What are you sorry for?” His interest is calm and sincere; whether he didn’t catch your tone or is willfully ignoring it is unclear, but you’re grateful either way.

 

“A lot of things.” You reply at length. _Everything._ “But how about I start with how I acted earlier. I – I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you were coming. I just panicked I guess.”

 

“Oh” his cheeks pinken slightly, and his shoulders droop, visibly crestfallen. Disappointment is evident in his low voice.

 

“What?” He doesn’t really owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything, but your curiosity gets the better of you, and you can’t help but ask.

 

“Nothing it’s just – well I guess I just thought - that is I _hoped…”_ Zuko trails off, turning away so that all but his scarred cheek is hidden from you.

 

“What?” You repeat, more forcefully this time. Whatever he has to say, it’s important to you, even if you haven’t acted that way as of late.

 

“That – that you finally decided you wanted to see me.” He lowers his head, obviously embarrassed by the admission, but really, you think, it’s you who should be ashamed.

 

“Zuko. I always want to see you.” Admitting it is difficult, but you know there hasn’t been a single day since you left that you haven’t thought about him.

 

“Then why? Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you visit? _Spirits_ Sokka, you didn’t even write to me! I thought after everything, I at least deserved that much.” It’s Zuko’s turn to finally break, and you can see tears shine in his frantic eyes. It sickens you, that you put them there, and you bow your head shamefully.

 

“I tried. I tried writing to you. I did, actually. I wrote to you often.” _Too often,_ you think _._ “I just never sent any of the letters.”

 

It’s the truth, but it falls far short of the reality of your time spent in the water tribe, in self-inflicted exile. Explaining to Zuko how unbearable it was, and how conflicted you were over your reticence feels nearly impossible. But he deserves an explanation. You have to tell him something, even if it’s not the whole truth.

 

“I just needed space. And time. To think things over. And then I had too much of both. And it was too late.”

 

“I would have given you that. I just don’t understand why you needed _so much_.” He would too. He _did._ You realize now why you had never heard from him. He was giving you just what you wanted – what you thought you needed. He was waiting for you to make the first move. And he thought you _had._ That’s why he was here at all. That’s why he had been so happy to see you.

 

“It’s – it’s hard to explain. When I left – “

 

“I know _why_ you left Sokka.” Exasperated, he leans back against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Whatever he hoped he would get from this confrontation, you were clearly falling short of delivering. He huffs out a breath, “at least I think I do.”

 

“How?” Is it possible? Has he known all this time that you –

 

No. He couldn’t.

 

 “I overheard my advisors one day not long after you’d left. They were talking about you. About how they had never meant to _actually_ drive you away by saying the things that they did. How you were distracting, how you being there was only hurting me. Joke’s on them really, since they were the ones scrambling to make up for your absence. You didn’t really believe all that, did you?” He pleads, desperate to know it wasn’t his ignorance on the matter that caused the rift between you.

 

“It’s not that. Not exactly, anyways. You don’t understand.” It’s not an accusation, but rather an assurance. You had never explained yourself to him. How could he be expected to?

 

“Oh? Enlighten me then.” Clearly, it wasn’t going to be so easy to brush him off.

 

But how can you? It feels like an impossible task, to unravel your thoughts and lay them out for Zuko to read. So many years of living with them wound up inside you have left them knotted together like loose ends of thread that trap your heart inside them. How could you possibly explain your motives without revealing far too much? To tug on one thread might bring your carefully constructed cage crashing down all at once.

 

Still. You have to try.

 

“I – I was afraid Zuko. I thought, by being in the fire nation, I was a danger to you. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t even stand the thought of it. I was scared Zuko. _Spirits_ I was so scared.” You try to retain some measure of composure, but you can’t quite seem to keep your voice from shaking like dry leaves in the autumn wind.

 

The admission feels almost shameful. After all, what right do you have to tell someone you’re afraid they’ll break your heart when they don’t even know they hold it? Zuko’s ignorance is no fault of his own. You think maybe he knows, or suspects, your feelings by now. But you wouldn’t bet on that.

 

“It’s the same reason I never sent you any of those letters. I was afraid of what you’d say if you knew. If you knew how I really felt.”

 

“I see.” Zuko regards you with calm resignation. One leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent supporting the weight of the arm he’s slung haphazardly across it. Leaning heavily against the wall, he looks you over. Once. Twice. Sighs. Meets your eyes, his own devoid of any emotion you could recognize in them. Then he seems to come to a decision, brow set in a heavy line. “You’re a coward, Sokka.”

 

That stings. You’re called a lot of things, but coward isn’t usually one of them. Still, you can’t exactly argue with it. Despite all of this, you still haven’t told him everything, or admitted what you really wish you could. Coward feels pretty damn accurate.

 

“Yeah. You’re right.”

 

“But I understand.” His voice falls flat, lacking anything like anger or despair. If anything, he just sounds tired.

 

You lapse back into silence, both completely spent. There is so much more to say, but you don’t feel like it would make any difference. You suspect there are things yet that he is keeping from you as well, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You can’t picture a clear path where anything you said would fix what’s been broken or put back what has been lost.

 

 Eventually Zuko breaks the tense quiet.

 

“Listen, Sokka, I don’t like having to say this but -well it’s just…” He sighs, exhausted, leaning his wait forward against his bended knee. “Look. I understand if you don’t want to return to the fire nation. I can accept that. But it doesn’t change the fact that your tribe needs an ambassador. I would prefer that it was you, for a lot of reasons. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but it’s still true, even now. But… if you won’t come back, I’m going to need to choose someone else.”

 

“Are – are you giving me an ultimatum?” The words ring hollow in your ears, your heart dropping like a stone to the bottom of your stomach. The reality of being replaced is more surreal than you would have thought.

 

“Sokka, I wish I didn’t have to do this – “

 

“Then don’t!” You shout. “It doesn’t have to be this way!” You’re not sure why this is hitting you so hard. You should have expected this, honestly. But somehow you had always felt your past with Zuko was something untouchable you could go back to, and reclaim, if you were really willing to try. You’re finally realizing just how wrong you were.

 

“Yes, it does! Why can’t you understand that without you, nothing is easy. Nothing! When you left, you broke things, Sokka. And things can’t go back to the way they were, I see that now. I have to think about the future. We both do.”

 

His angry words echo ghostly against the cold walls of the tower, temporarily drowning out the merry noise of the village celebrations. You can do little more than stare at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly as you watch his breath come in heavy gasps, holding back some untold storm. After a moment, he rises abruptly and turns to leave.

 

“Look. You don’t have to decide this right now. Just think about it, alright?” It’s a request, not an order or demand. It was never a demand. Zuko was always too soft with you.

 

Still is.

 

“I’m sorry, Sokka. Truly.” He speaks these words at you over his shoulder from his place by the door, voice faint and fainthearted.

 

With that he leaves, the soft swishing of fabric behind him holds a rigid finality. There’s no compromising with an empty space, and you had left a _cavern_ in his life, and in your own heart.

 

He was right, of course. Things couldn’t go back to the way they had been. Even if they weren’t ruined the moment you set foot on that accursed boat that brought you here, they surely were by now. You had made sure of it with your stubbornness, steadfast in your resolve to run from your trepidation rather than face it.  Even more infuriating is the knowledge of that which deep inside you’ve always know – that had you only gone to Zuko, found your strength in him as you should have, you could have faced this together. You _would_ have. You would have faced everything together. You would _be_ together.

 

Instead? Instead you had run. You tire of running. What good could it possibly do you now? The worst had already happened. You were about to lose him, before your very eyes even.

 

But he had given you one last chance. Of course, he had.

 

It only takes one moment - one decision – to be brave. So far you have passed up every chance you’ve gotten. But you’ve been granted one last choice. And may the world be _damned_ if it thinks you’re going to let that happen again. 

 

* * *

 

 

The village only grows more crowded through the afternoon. Friends, family, strangers, none of whom you make any effort to visit with, far too preoccupied with your own scheming. Making decisions had never been easy for you, dedicated as you are to playing out every eventuality before even making the first move, but once you had, you were determined. And to this, you are wholly devoted.

 

Evening is falling, clear as a glacier stream, when you are finally ready. You weave your way through town, around fire and ice separating you from your purpose. You reach the main hut and dive inside, the flurry of movement drawing the eyes of all within.

 

Not quick enough. You toss a thick jacket towards Zuko, who doesn’t manage to catch it before it hits him full in the face. Uncovering himself, he shoots you a look half way between curiosity and annoyance, but his eyes shine with something not unlike hope.

 

“Come with me.” You stretch your hand out to him, an offering. He hesitates for only a moment before presenting you his, which you grasp firmly before tearing off again, whisking him along in your wake.

 

Outside the village walls waits your chariot, six sleek dogs harnessed to a sled, packed to the brim with warm clothing and blankets for your journey.

 

“Put that on. We can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?” Zuko obliges. Though confused, he makes no protest when you plant your hands on his shoulders and direct him to sit in the basket of the sled. Quickly you mount the sled yourself, directing the dogs off into the inky blackness of oncoming night.

 

The sled kicks up clouds of snow as it races solitary across the ice, which refracts the starlight in a silvery haze. You squint through the icy plumes, waiting, watching, searching. The night drags on, but you know you’re getting close when barren ice gives way to rocky crags, gnarled and twisted, capped by fresh blankets of snow. It is up the side of one of these that you steer, carving a curved path into its perfect surface. Nearly to the top, you spot a wide cleft in the rock face and it’s here that you pull up.

 

Leaping from your perch, you haul Zuko to his feet before turning your attention back to the sled, where you fidget nervously with the gear and supplies.

 

Eventually, Zuko is the one to break the tense silence, voice light and hopeful, with only a hint of smugness, “so, I guess this means you’ve decided to come back?”

 

You turn towards him, almost afraid to approach, the memory of how badly your most recent conversation ended an open wound in your chest. You lick your dry lips once, twice, and clear your throat awkwardly before replying.

 

“I – I would love to. That is, if you still want me. If you’ll still have me.” You step towards him slowly, avoiding his eyes at first, guilt-ridden, arms crossed uneasily over your chest. You had made such a scene before, you wouldn’t blame him if he had decided to change his mind and rescind his offer.

 

“Of course I want you, Sokka.” Zuko reaches out, clasping a strong hand around your arm. It gives you just enough courage to look up at him. When you do you are met with adoring eyes and a hopelessly warm smile – and it breaks you.

 

“Zuko I – I’m sorry.” You wail, reaching out and grasping his shoulders to steady yourself, fingertips grazing the side of his neck. “I’m _so, so sorry_. I can’t – I don’t know _how_ to – “

 

“Shhh… It’s alright, Sokka.” Zuko cuts you off, thumb gently pressed against your lips to silence your lamentation. “One time is enough. I know. I believe you.”

 

His fingers stroke your cheek gently, but rather than pull away as you normally would, you lean slowly into it, resting your forehead against his, relieved, a breathy chuckle escaping your throat. You know there is still much to say, but you have time. There’s no longer any hurry, or sense of urgency. And you’d rather just enjoy this moment, and the neglected but familiar closeness now offered to you that you had so missed.

 

“Sokka, what are we doing here?” Zuko asks eventually, retreating just enough to meet your eyes with a quizzical look.

 

“You can’t see the lights from in the village nearly as well. I figured, as long as you’re here, I might as well give you something to really remember. You’ll be glad we came out here. Trust me.”

 

“I already am.” You barely catch the words Zuko murmurs into the wind, but they still paint a dark flush across your cheeks.

 

Grabbing some blankets quickly from the sled, you nestle yourself into the hollow in the dark rock, pulling Zuko down after you. Here, sheltered from the harsh wind the only disturbance of the midnight air is your shaky breath, and the rustling of fabric as you drape the soft pelts you’ve brought around the two of you. Wrapped up in the royal blue sky, perched at the top of the world, empty save for the two of you, you wait.

 

Slowly, light begins to trickle in between the stars, a curtain of pinks and greens bright and crisp. Ribbon upon ribbon adds its graceful dance to the churning sky. The ostentatious celestial waltz that ensues is magnificent, navy hidden beneath its shining veneer, rich colour scattered across the blank canvas of white snow far bellow.

 

A small gasp from beside you draws your attention, and you find your own breath caught in your throat. You thought the lights had been beautiful, but they had truly been nothing, hideous and gaudy really, compared to the exquisite way they were reflected in Zuko’s shining eyes, lighting his skin with a warmth they could never have achieved. Until this very moment they had been worthless, but now, illuminating the curve of Zuko’s lips, parted slightly in awe, face a gilded masterpiece under their elegant glow, you understand their full worth.

 

“Sokka, this is magnificent.” The low rumble of his voice in the small space between you sends a shiver up your spine in a way the frigid air never could.

 

“Yeah” you sigh in agreement.

 

His gaze shifts, and your heart falters, so obvious is the longing written in his features. His wanting lip caught between restraining teeth as his eyes, hungry and golden, mark a path along your jaw, your lips, your cheeks until finally, finally he meets your eyes. You feel his breath catch as he lingers there.

 

“I – I don’t think I can go back to how things were before.” He admits, winded.

  
“I know I can’t.” You agree as you tuck a lose strand of dark hair behind his ear, letting you fingers trail along beneath his jaw, thumb running over his lower lip, bitten red with nervousness, and up his cheekbone, hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck.

 

“Zuko would it- would it be alright if –“ For one long moment, you waver, seized by a fear old and obsolete. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“Please.” He moans softly against your skin.

 

You lean in slowly, closing the small gap between you, catching his lips gently between your own, kissing him long and slow.

 

It’s nothing like you thought it would be. You had always imagined Zuko would taste of smoke and fire, but instead you find delicate jasmine and sweet honey. His lips are soft but firm, matching your tender kiss with deep adoration. It’s so much warmer and softer and _better_ than you had ever or could ever dream.

 

You pull away sharply, gasping for breath, panting hot and raged against Zuko’s jaw.

 

“ _Sokka”_ he begs, and that’s all it takes to have you diving back in, this time more frantic, more passionate and _needing_ than the last. Zuko responds in kind, and for long, heated minutes your mind is filled with only his name, and you think of nothing but dark hair and pale skin and golden eyes.

 

Slowly your passion wanes into something sweeter, gentler. You draw back slightly, just enough to press your brows together. Though the sky still shines as bright as ever, you have no eyes for it. You drink in the deep blush that spreads bold across Zuko’s cheek and nose, and the lazy smile his lips are pulled into, and you know you must look much the same.

 

Some faint thought in the back of your mind reminds you that the future – this future – likely won’t come easy. But nothing really worth while ever has, in your experience. And you’ve never been more willing to fight for anyone – with anyone – than you are for this, all of this. You have never been so certain that this is the future you want to, were meant to find.

 

And you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just invent a random festival as an excuse to get these two together? You bet! Do I know that aurora don't appear every year on the same day like this? I sure do! Do I care? No!
> 
> This update has been a long time coming, and for that I am sorry, but I hope it was worth it!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! Your comments mean the world to me, especially since this is the first thing I've written in a very long time! You can always find me on tumblr @mavy1 or @backcountry-deltora if you want to talk!


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